


it's high moon

by deliciously_devient



Series: Call of the Wild [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Knotting, Accidental Turning, D/s undertones, Knotting, M/M, under negotiated kink, werewolf!McCree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 17:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13151283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciously_devient/pseuds/deliciously_devient
Summary: The moon is full, and the air is full of....promise.





	it's high moon

**Author's Note:**

> A filthy, filthy present for my best friend. You deserve this.

The moon was high over the Watchpoint, and the smell of ozone seemed to permeate every room. Tensions were still high despite the late hour; Hanzo, McCree, Genji and Winston had just returned from a very strange mission in the fens of Ireland where Talon had been rumored to be operating.

 

They’d found the base, but there had been no one there. What was stranger, is that all the equipment was still there, computers still logged on, half eaten sandwiches and half empty mugs of coffee lying around as if everyone on the base had collectively stepped out for a moment and never returned. 

 

McCree had suffered a small wound from a rabid dog that had nipped his thigh before running off, but it had been treated easily with some biotic cream, the wound not very deep. They’d easily retrieved the notes and hard drives from the base, and Athena was working through the encryption; they’d likely have the results by tomorrow or the next day, depending on how thoroughly they’d protected their research.

 

McCree was having a smoke on the observation tower, a quiet corner he often came to when he felt restless, and boy, was he feeling restless. His skin was crawling, muscles tense, and he felt like running down the beach, wild and free. His whole self was vibrating with unused energy, but he’d spent the last four hours in the gym trying to work off this feeling. The nicotine wasn’t settling his nerves as it usually did, and he ground his jaw, teeth aching to bite into something.

 

There was something in the back of his mind, making him wonder, mind replaying the moment they’d entered the abandoned base, eyes landing on a single shoe. It had no mate nearby, as if someone had slipped one on and walked off without the other.

 

His ears sharpened as they caught the sound of quiet footsteps, and he wiped around, drawing Peacekeeper before his eyes snagged over the familiar edges of Hanzo’s face. The archer smirked at him, one eyebrow going up as he walked closer.

 

“Draw,” he drawled, a poor imitation of McCree’s accent, startling a laugh out of the gunslinger.

 

“Sorry,” McCree apologized, holstering his weapon and smiling at the shorter man as he entered the deck. “Bit jittery.”

 

“That much is obvious,” Hanzo said with a soft smile, pressing into McCree’s space and plucking the cigar from his lips. He took a long drag from it, eyes locked on McCree’s, before blowing the smoke out in rings. There was an odd glint in the archer’s eyes, a smoldering heat that had never been quite so apparent, and McCree felt something in the air between them. He reached out to pluck the cigar from Hanzo’s fingers, bringing the other man that much closer to him.

 

There was scarce inches between them, their breath fogging the air between them along with the thick scent of the cigar. Something sweeter tickled McCree’s nose, and he felt a familiar heat rising in his gut as Hanzo stepped even closer, his lips both too close and too far all at once.

 

“Hanzo,” McCree murmured, a plea, a warning.

 

“Hush,” Hanzo murmured back, pressing their lips together.

 

Fire rushed through McCree’s veins at the contact, startling a moan from his throat, his hands automatically going to Hanzo’s slim, muscled hips and clinging tight. Hanzo’s tongue pressed against the seam of his lips, and he opened his mouth, allowing the organ free reign to explore. Hanzo tasted of the vanilla tea he preferred, the sweetness of sake and something else, something musky but with a hint of savoriness that had McCree diving in tongue first, chasing the taste of what could only be Hanzo himself.

 

This was new territory; sure, they’d flirted a bit, but no more than McCree flirted with everyone else; if he’d been harboring a little crush on the stoic man, well, that was no one’s business but his own. He might have caught Hanzo staring at his abs a little too intensely in the showers, but he had mostly ignored it. He wasn’t one to initiate things; he may play like he had no fears, but the possibility of being rejected was one he simply couldn’t put down long enough to get out the right words.

 

“You are going to take me to your room,” Hanzo growled into McCree’s ear, nibbling the lobe with sharp  teeth. “And I am going to ride you into the sunset.”

 

McCree’s cock, already interested in the proceedings, gave an almost painful twitch in his jeans, and he growled, pushing Hanzo up against the nearest wall, inserting a leg between Hanzo’s and spreading his legs forcefully. This new position gave Jesse all the leverage, Hanzo’s toes barely brushing the ground.   
  


“Oh?” McCree growled, kissing down Hanzo’s throat, drawing breathy moans from the other man as he bit into the sensitive flesh there. “Who said you get to be on top?”

 

“I -ah!- I did,” Hanzo said, trying to be forceful but only coming out breathy and wanting. McCree chuckled darkly, grinding his thigh against Hanzo’s cock to hear him whimper. 

 

“I’ll wrassle ya fer it,” he purred in the archer’s ear, his teeth scraping down the edge of Hanzo’s adam’s apple.

 

He wasn’t sure what happened, exactly, after that, but then they were in McCree’s room, shedding clothes as though they were on fire. Hanzo used his martial arts training to throw McCree on the bed, crawling atop the gunslinger with a smirk on his lips, his muscled thighs clinging to Jesse’s hips as he settled himself, naked and hard, above him. Hanzo’s skin seemed to glow in moonlight, the jumping static that usually signaled his dragons fluttering over his skin rapidly. 

 

Normally, McCree wouldn’t be opposed to his partner taking charge -especially not someone like Hanzo, where this exact scenario had been something he’d furiously jacked off over many lonely nights- but something wild and primal snarled in his chest.

 

Now, Jesse didn’t normally do hand to hand combat, preferring to keep his enemies at a distance with the crack of Peacekeeper. But Gabe had been a slave driver in training, insisting that every member of Blackwatch be proficient in grappling. And Jesse, well, there’d been a reason he was Gabe’s right hand man.

 

Startling a yelp out of the archer, McCree flipped them, using his superior weight to pin Hanzo to the bed, grinding their cocks together almost brutally. Hanzo snarled, attempted to flip them back, but Jesse had him pinned well enough that he couldn’t get the leverage, his prosthetic hand locked around one of the archer’s wrists.

 

“Don’t be that way, darlin’,” Jesse drawled, slowly sucking a mark into Hanzo’s throat, on the side his gi wouldn’t cover. “I know yer just where you like t’be.”

 

“You have no idea what I like,” Hanzo snapped, but his voice ended on a sharp whine when Jesse pulled his mouth away, arching his neck further to bare more soft skin to McCree’s unforgiving teeth.

 

“Oh, I don’t?” Jesse purred, slowly grinding their cocks together, relishing every tiny whine and moan he drew from the normally reserved archer. “So it ain’t been you that pops a boner every time I pin ya to the mat, hmm? It ain’t been you gasping every time I get a lil to rough with ya?”

 

Hanzo only growled again, making a weak attempt to pull his hand from Jesse’s prosthetic grip. His other hand, which McCree hadn’t bothered to capture, lay lax against the sheets. With a rough push and tug, McCree flipped Hanzo onto his stomach, pushing his him onto his knees and grabbing a fistful of that soft, thick hair to press his face into the pillow. 

 

Hanzo’s cock was hard and leaking, swinging between his legs as he allowed his knees to be spread, exposing his pink hole to the moonlight. It glinted slightly with wetness, and McCree used his flesh hand to touch, sliding one finger in easily, and then two when that made Hanzo whine beautifully.

 

“You dirty boy,” he said playfully, crooking his fingers to jab Hanzo’s prostate, making the other man yowl in pleasure, back arching. “God, you went an stretched yerself out so pretty for me. Gorgeous.” 

 

“Hurry up and fuck me,” Hanzo snarled, eyes glinting with lightning, and McCree’s cock jumped.

“Oh, I will,” McCree growled, removing his fingers from Hanzo’s loose hole, dragging a whimper from the archer. He didn’t have time to complain, however, because then McCree was sinking his cock into Hanzo’s waiting heat, slow and steady while the archer made a punched out noise, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as his hips rocked back into the intrusion.

 

Jesse paused when his hips were pressed flush against Hanzo’s taut ass, trembling with the effort it was taking him to hold back. McCree thought of himself as a generous lover, always seeing to his partners needs first before sating his own, making sure they were fucked out and boneless before seeking his own release. Whether it was the way Hanzo had approached him, or how restless he had been before, but McCree wanted to plow into Hanzo relentlessly, use him soundly for his own pleasure and put him away wet.

 

With how he was moaning, it didn’t seem like he would mind much.

 

McCree drove his hips forward at a brutal pace, and Hanzo arched back into each thrust, making tiny little huffs each time, his hands clenched in the bedsheets. His back was tense, but his hole was relaxed around McCree’s cock, welcoming, sucking him down greedily on each thrust in and reluctantly giving up his prize on each thrust out.

 

“P-please,” Hanzo panted, his eyes wild as he looked over his shoulder at McCree, mouth open as he panted, a thin line of drool leaking down the corner of his mouth. “Pull, pull my hair, please,” he whined, gasping sharply as McCree nailed his prostate dead on.

 

Jesse growled, teeth snapping together violently, and he used his flesh hand to twist into Hanzo’s hair, yanking it back harshly, making the archer’s neck curve sharply, and planted his prosthetic hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. Like that, he began to draw Hanzo back onto his cock himself, thrusting and pulling, using Hanzo like a living fleshlight. Soft whines and exhales were the only sounds Hanzo made, his eyes nearly rolled back into his head as he went limp except for his clenching hole.

 

Like this, he was completely at McCree’s mercy, and the thought made Jesse thrust harder, faster, driving into the smaller man in a way almost painful for them both. It only took a few moments of this harsh, unforgiving pace before Hanzo came, untouched, screaming Jesse’s name and a torrent of nearly indecipherable Japanese.

 

Spurred on by this, McCree drove into Hanzo faster, harder, chasing his orgasm with a single minded focus. The base could have been blowing up around him, Talon pouring through the walls, and he wouldn’t have noticed. He felt his gut tighten, and thrust twice more before shuddering to a stop, filling Hanzo.

 

His throat was right there in front of Jesse, pale and unmarked and so, so tempting, and he bit into the soft flesh without thought, something in the back of his mind telling him  _ claim, claim, mate.  _ If he had been more in his own mind, he would have wondered at how easily his teeth cut through the tendons at Hanzo’s neck, at how the archer only gave an exhausted whimper at the pain, at how he still seemed to be coming, and coming, and coming.

 

Instinct drove him to lick at the wound he’d left, and shift them both on their sides. McCree’s cock was still inside Hanzo, unwilling to part with his warmth, an unfamiliar tightness at the base of his dick making it impossible to pull out. McCree wasn’t worried about it though, his brain overcome with a sense of  _ rightness,  _ the restlessness he’d been feeling all night finally dissipated.

 

The wound on Hanzo’s neck seemed to seal up much faster than it should have, but McCree couldn’t think of why that was odd, or a problem. He instead focused on nuzzling into his mate, getting his scent all over the archer, kissing every part of him he could reach until the man growled in irritation, flashing too-sharp teeth at McCree.

 

They stayed wrapped around each other for long moments, until they were able to separate, and even then they didn’t go far. McCree lavished attention on Hanzo, gently massaging sore muscles, wiping the sweat and come from his body with careful hands. It wasn’t until late until the night, after the moon had set, that McCree looked down at his dick, noticed that it  _ was completely different than when he woke up that morning  _ and promptly screamed.


End file.
